


Trophy

by makesometime



Series: Friday One Word Challenge Fics [15]
Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fights, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Trophies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for Friday One Word Challenge – Week 19</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trophy

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Taylor/Wash – Trophy [prompted by](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/181663.html?thread=1627039#t1627039) losthaven in the [Friday One Word Challenge – Week 19](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/181663.html)

_2134_

He's never been a big fan of awards, of medals and accolades for just doing his job. There's a difference, granted, to a promotion, but there's something about being rewarded for the number of people he's killed that doesn't sit well in his stomach. His medic, he knows, is the same way. 

In the past he's seen the blazing pride in her eyes as he pins the next indication of her rank to her dress uniform. But he's also seen the dull disinterest there, masked by a false smile when one of the brass presents her with a medal she neither wants nor needs to keep doing her job just as well as she always has.

But... he supposes this is a different matter entirely.

He watches as she leads her team back into base, her nickname chanted as she beams (she's in the grips of a deep burning embarrassment, he can tell, but she'll never let them know this). Jackson is following them quite some distance behind, not even bothering to hide his distaste as he flops down into one of the breakroom chairs. 

Nathaniel knows exactly what's happened, was there for the initiation of their bet before they deployed that morning on his order. It's been a long time in coming, Wash is still the newbie on the team three years after joining (they're good, they're fast, they're the closest thing to bulletproof the army has) but she's only recently completed sniper training and it was inevitable that, with Jackson the only other specialist on the team, the two of them would lock horns.

Caffrey speaks up first, tauntingly calling Jackson's name and Nathaniel looks over to Wash to find her staring imploringly at him. In return he just tips his drink at her – she brought this on herself in one fit of indignant rage, she has to deal with the consequences. So she steels herself, squares her shoulders and picks up a bottle of whiskey as Jackson slowly makes his way across the room to her.

Once there (too close to her, a last attempt to show himself as superior and one that fails in every possible way) he smiles falsely and holds up the chipped ceramic mug that all this posturing has been over. It's ridiculously old (as bulletproof as the rest of them, it seems) and the original pattern is faded but you can still make out the crosshairs printed on it. The words, whatever they may have been, are completely gone but there's black marker scribbles all over its surface, all names of previous victors. 

Caffrey hands him a pen and Jackson puts an angry line through his own name before scrawling the four letters of Wash's in an empty space. He then quickly takes the bottle of liquor from her and pours a healthy measure inside, thrusting it into her waiting hand. Wash beams at him, earlier embarrassment either gone or forgotten and downs the whiskey in one swallow.

Amidst the hollering that follows she catches Nathaniel’s eye once again and this time he can see the triumph in her deep brown gaze, knows she recognises the significance of the moment. Medals and accolades may mean little to the pair of them but both can see the value in this, in competition between comrades, to keep morale up, to push each other further.

Once her grace period is over Nathaniel knows that Jackson will fight tooth and nail to get "his" trophy back. But he'll put good money on it never leaving Wash's hands again.

_2150_

It's nearly twenty years before it happens again, before he sees his lieutenant challenged by a comrade over her skill.

Six months after the Phoenix Group attack (six months after he lost Wash and five since the Sixers returned to the colony with her in tow) things are finally settling down into something regarding normality. Mira and Carter have been understandably more reticent than the rest of their people about the reintegration, but their relationships with Guz and Skye are a great help in soothing worries, calming fraught tempers after jibes from angry colonists.

The pair of them agree to help out with the security forces so long as they can retain some kind of autonomy and after they returned his love to him Nathaniel is more than willing to offer them any concessions they need (especially if it means the colony gains from their wealth of knowledge and experience).

But in allowing them such access he unwittingly puts Wash in the midst of another battle of wills. 

He happens to be passing the locker room one afternoon when he hears Carter's voice from inside; loud, confident, as brash as the man has ever been. He stops and finds Wash seated on one of the benches, skin still damp from her workout, elbows resting on spread thighs as she regards the former Sixer with mild disdain.

Yet this doesn't deter him, only serves to heighten his fervour as the other soldiers in the room snicker amongst themselves. Carter is challenging her, Nathaniel realises, has discovered the meaning of the dinosaur skull mounted to the front of her locker. Apparently believes that he can best her in a fight (foolish, foolish man, still so dead set on _proving_ himself) and claim the title of Terra Nova's best combatant.

Nathaniel grins as Wash spots him, shoots him an eye roll before turning back to the man in front of her. She stands up and extends her hand in acceptance. Carter shakes it with an almost feral grin, points at the skull one more time before striding from the room, brushing past Nathaniel as if he isn't even there.

(That night Skye comes to his office, begging him to stop her lover from being such an – as she so elegantly puts it – asshat. Nathaniel merely shrugs, cannot offer her any such reassurance. This is Wash's fight, and he's learnt not to interfere with those.)

The day of the fight dawns bright and clear, Wash is out of bed before he even awakens. He ambles down to the barracks, visiting the locker room to remove the skull from Wash's locker for later presentation to the winner (return to its rightful owner). He finds the training ground alarmingly full for such an early hour, Carter and Wash already warming up when he takes his place next to Guz and Jim, puts a comforting arm around a still-fretting Skye.

He is aware that each member of the troops is here to see their leader put a cocky bastard in his place, certain of her success – Nathaniel knows how much they love Wash, how even after coming back from the dead just a few months ago they refuse to bet against her; knows this as much as he is aware they will eventually accept Carter into their ranks. The man brought her back to them, after all – what this all boils down to is really just an elaborate method of hazing. 

It doesn't take long, in the end. Carter is an excellent fighter, truly. Could best any one of Nathaniel's men on his day. 

Any one of them except Wash.

She's laughing as she pulls Carter to his feet, hands him a rag to stop the bleeding from the gash above his eye. Carter laughs too at something she says, slinging an arm around her neck, an affection she grants him with little resistance. The pair of them approach Nathaniel, Skye breaking away to fuss over her bloodied partner as soon as he gets in range; but the girl is smiling, relief painting her pretty features.

Wash stands in front of him, hands behind her back as she falls into parade rest. Waiting. He raises an eyebrow and though there's a flash of annoyance in her eyes, a promise that he will regret this, she salutes sharply. She winces at the movement, a flicker of pain that no one else would see – she hides her injuries with as much ease as ever, but has been found out this time. 

Nathaniel chooses not to mention it, simply salutes in return and holds out the skull for her to take. When she does so a great cheer goes up and there's none of the reticence he saw all those years ago as she plays up to it, holds the trophy aloft for all to see.

And there's another difference to her now, an ease in her actions, a lack of second guessing that has displayed itself as she takes her third chance at life with both hands.

Never is this more clear than when she turns back to him, hooks her uninjured arm around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss that sends the entire room right back into raptures; cheers, hoots and catcalls filling the room as her tongue strokes his lips and his hands clutch her hips, drowning in the triumph of the woman he loves.


End file.
